


Clever Girl

by randomskittless



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 04:43:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3433970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randomskittless/pseuds/randomskittless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie-Jones is being made to move in with her brother John Watson for safety reasons or something. Well that's what her brother said. She is the worlds only other consulting detective. How well will the world's best get on with each other?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Charlie-Jones {Character Introduction}

Name; Scarlett Charlie-Jones Edge Watson

Age; 28 years old

Appearance; 5' 7", brown curly hair, brown eyes

Profession; Consulting detective.

Habits; Smokes, drinks, plays guitar, sings.

Face Claim; Louisa Rose Allen


	2. Assumptions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie-Jones moves into the flat of 221B Baker Street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is written in Charlie's point of view. Oh and there's swearing. :3

It's a Wednesday at precisely 2:38 in the afternoon, quite cold around 12 degrees Celsius and it's the 12th of December, so I had wrapped my coat tightly around me. My white shirt was tucking into some ripped, black skinny jeans, my brown, unruly hair tied back into a loose ponytail. My black combat boots scuffed against the ground as I headed closer towards the door, my head debating if I really wanted to do this. _Why does it have to be so cold? Why is it almost Christmas?_ I despise Christmas; it's just another pointless holiday that foolish people waste their money on.

 

I approached the building, suitcase in one hand, the other one rising towards the door. I pushed the door forwards, not bothering to knock, I didn't really feel as if it was necessary. An old lady, shorter than myself walked up to me.

     "Hello dear, who might you, be? Another client?" She rambled, looking up at me.

     "No, I believe you're Mrs Hudson and I am actually here to see my brother," I replied, straightening my back.

     "Oh, Sherlock?" I grimaced when she said his name and shook my head, in something I could only describe as disgust. Just because I look like a Holmes, doesn't mean I am one.

     "What is it like in your brain? You're so slow," I whispered to myself, "I am John's sister, surely you mustremember him saying something to you." I stated as footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs. A balding man walked down, dressed in some hideous jumper."By God, you're getting old, John," I mumbled, looking at him. "You should really dye your hair, or at least by a wig for fucks sake." My brother shot me a look, only earning a simple smirk from me.

     "Hello to you too, Charlie," he replied, picking my suitcase up, which I had previously set on the floor. I snatched it from his grasp, pouting slightly,

     "I am perfectly capable of doing things myself, John. I am now 28, not 8." I stated curtly, looking at him. He smiled at me,

     "Come on you, I'll introduce you when Sherlock gets back," I hummed in response as he messed up my hair. I chuckled softly, looking down at him, finding him to be shorter than myself as well. Mrs Hudson smiled at me, her wrinkles being pushed up, making her look younger depending the light,

     "It will be lovely to have another lady around here for company," I hummed again; I'm not going to be spending time with her, no way. And who was she calling a lady? Walking up the stairs after my brother, I was greeted with a dusty looking place, books scattered around, a smiley face painted on the wall, the faint smell of smoke enveloping the place. I wanted to shoot that smiley face already, it's far too cheerful. I continued looking around, hearing my brother's voice from the kitchen, he recalled that Sherlock was on a case and he should be home soon.

    "Already mentioned that," I whispered, or I already assumed that. In less than two minutes, I had the whole place memorised, seeing as the layout was basic and ordinary to this part of London. John led me towards the spare bedroom and told me to make myself at home. I didn't, I just sat on my bed, fingers pressed to my temples, suitcase carelessly chucked on the floor.

 

> ~~ Kristen Winter had died, some believed suicide, but they wouldn't have come to believe me if they knew that for certain. She had been hanging from the ceiling, but there was nowhere she could have jumped from, the idiots clearly missed that. Yet, I still hadn't figured out the way she had actually died. There was not a mark on her body apart from the post-mortem bruises around her neck. There was an injection mark on her neck which had been masked by the bruising but what could have killed her. Not poison, the scan would have picked up, we traced for all kinds of poison. What didn't we trace? Blood sugar levels? Did we check them? No...wait, that's it. Kristen Winter was a diabetic, she could have easily been injected with too much insulin and died. Got it...I hope. ~~

I stood up, pulling my phone out of my inside coat pocket which I hadn't bothered to take off yet. My fingers began typing at an incredible speed.

 **{Text; James}** : Insulin overdose. No place to jump from for supposed suicide. Getting sloppy James. -CJW

The reply came through almost instantaneously.

 **{Text; James}:** Clever girl, Scarlett. -JM

I shivered after I read his message. Scarlett. That name haunted me everywhere, I refused to let people call me that but James kept calling me that. Claimed he liked it. Scarlett. Scar. I mean, it's a perfectly hideous name. I walked out of the room I refused to call mine and saw a tall figure hanging his coat up. Identical to mine. I know who this is.


	3. Boredom

Sherlock's head turned to face me and I knew what he was doing, trying to deduce me. 'Good luck with that.' His eyebrows scrunched up in confusion.

     "Sherlock, I presume," I commented, smirking at him.

     "You must be John's sister, Scarlett, I believe it was,"

     "Charlie," I snapped immediately, he sat down in his chair, fingers pressed against his temples. I chuckled softly, skipping out the room.

     "I can't deduce her John, why can't I? I don't know anything about her? Apart from she really hates her name,"

 

     "Well that reminds me of someone," John replied to Sherlock, crossing his arms as he gave him a disappointed look. "The great Sherlock Holmes doesn't know?" John chuckled, I peered my head round, smiling at my brother. I looked at Sherlock.

     "Sherlock Holmes, you haven't eaten today, you've just been on a case judging by the way you walked in, proud of yourself that you figured it out so quickly, _smart arse_ , you're frustrated because you can't deduce me, you're craving a smoke but John burned your cigarettes and don't tell me about the nicotine patches because you haven't used them in the past two, no three days, even then you only use them if you're on a difficult case, you don't have a good relationship with you're family judging by the fact that there isn't any pictures around and you are very good at chemistry due to these so called experiments all over the place." I rambled, looking directly at him. He smiled,

     "Very good, what do you do as a job?" I mock gasped,

     "The Great Sherlock Holmes really doesn't know," I put a hand over my heart, "I feel honoured," I smiled and headed towards the door, messing my hair up and flicking my coat collar up, walking out the door, throwing a smirk back at him.

     "How did she do that?" He yelled, throwing something across the room.

 

I walked out of 221B and started walking up the road. My phone beeped but I ignored it, continuing to walk along. Of course I had no idea where I was going, I was bored, I wanted to find something to do, either that or cause havoc. I quite like the second option. I pulled a gun out of one of my pockets and shot it three times into the air. I heard the screeching of tires and a woman screaming and put my gun back in my pocket and started skipping back to what I should probably call home. Before I went inside I stood outside, leaning against the wall, pulling a cigarette out of the packet. I lit it and brought it to my mouth, inhaling the fumes before expelling them. Once I had finished I chucked it on the floor, stomping my foot on top of it. Walking up the stairs I saw a new figure, how did they get past me?

     "There was just gun shots and no one was there," he was rambling, turning his head he saw me and glared. "You again," The DI groaned in annoyance.

     "Charlie-Jones," I introduced sarcastically, smiling. "Sorry about the gun shots, that was me." I said, taking the opportunity to sit in John's chair while he was making tea.

     "What?" John yelled, almost dropping a cup, eyebrows raising, "that's something I would expect from Sherlock!"

     "John it's not exactly the first time I've done this, besides, I'm bored," I complained, shrugging my shoulders. The DI left without another word. Sherlock looked over at me, raising his eyebrow, moving closer to me.

     "You've been smoking," Sherlock stated, taking a deep breath, I glared at him, not wanting my brother to know I was still continuing with that bad habit, it helped me to think though.

     "Wow, aren't you clever," I commented, my face straight knowing he could do better.

     "Tell me something,"

     "Are we really doing this?" I complained, standing up and taking my coat off, hanging it on the rack.

     "Yes, Name?"

     "Charlie," I replied, crossing my arms as Sherlock sneered.

     "Full name," he said, emphasising the full. I sighed, jumping onto John's chair, sure I could have easily broken it.

     "Scarlett Charlie-Jones Edge Watson," I replied, not entirely sure why I told him. But lets face it, I'm bored.

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Sherlock, or anything else apart from Charlie-Jones who is my own character. I have posted this before on Wattpad but this is a more edited version.


End file.
